Enjoy the quiet times.

During the solstice we visited el Conundra, a region beset with a variety of puzzling happenings.  Most residents explain these dilemma, citing a coincidence of planetary alignments or the regenerative powers of cellular matter impacted by electromagnetic currents. Other groups use complex mathematical calculations to promote their efforts to comprehend. Some carry balls of twine and construct random webs of string to guide others toward the ultimate conclusion.

Nonetheless a few stalwarts hold firmly to the belief that an extraordinary form guides daily activities. These folks worship trees, rocks, any and all forms of matter, animate or inert, that appear to have erupted from the surface. Each year at the solstice they gather at the learning tree and demand a short encounter with peace and quiet. Most, but for the most severe cases of mental incapcitativity, abide. It is a quiet time. Enjoy. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt.)

Cairn of Melangé

Cairn, acrylic/ canvas, ed touchette, 2011, 20" x 24"

Just off Rt U2, in what now is known as the Common, we saw the Cairn of Melangé. The culture of a region is buried here.

Some years ago, leaders in the dominion demanded compliance and adherence to sameness to ease the stresses of governing a heterogeneous population. Commonality was encouraged; dissent was ignored. Consequently, all became usual and nothing of value remained. Surprise was cancelled. Save the granite boulders and outcroppings on which the region had been built, all disappeared. Scientists studying the remains have determined that lichen on the boulders of the cairn hold promise but its development into anything resembling the miscellany once thriving here remains eons in the future.

We rarely purchase souvenirs but at The Cairn of Melangé, the District's Governors have established potpourri shops as an homage to the once cultural hotbed. My aunt bought a pound of a rose petal, lavender mix.
(Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Rampant Afflictions

Beach People, 1984, ed touchette, monotype with etching ink and conté crayon

We headed for the beach at Nuevo Nuevo Novel to spend some time reviewing our trip so far. To no avail, I might add. The sands there attract folks from all genre. Most suffer from attention deficit so they constantly, interminably strive to outdo others with their mannerisms and dress. Although pop music instruction is the most popular, posturing and posing classes attract a fair share of the population. It is impossible for shop owners to keep sunglasses stocked. As you can see from this photo my aunt took as we sped along Rt 14591, posers rule in Nuevo Nuevo Novel.  (Excerpted from Travels with My Aunt)

Kinesis

 

At Saint-Grégoire des montagnes: We approached a travelers hut with circumspection, understanding, having read a recent issue of The Honest Tourist, that previous venturers had met tragedy in similar conditions. We peered carefully across a valley to ascertain the presence of possibly dangerous animals, vegetables or alternative forces. Realizing none of our premonitions of disaster, we lay back our heads and indulged a previously undiscovered cellular want of calm.

Several hours later, bloated with chroma, we beheld the majesty of the mountainside sanctuary and involuntarily broke into song. Much later, energized as only a kinesiologist might determine (my aunt literally dancing for several miles) we continued on—where-to being of little or no concern given the sense of well being proffered by the sanctuary. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

An exciting city center

Most travelers entering the bowels of Brivol will opt for a guided tour as the city's design leaves many wanting direction. Nonetheless, tensions ease as travelers relax and the experience generates a sense of well being. The mind being utilized in ways previously unfamiliar begets confidence. Movement becomes fluid. After this, many find that carefully planned excursions deny the excitement of improvised treks.

Chroma Valley

We'll be stopping off in Tolivia to visit the discount bazaar. Sunglasses are a prerequisite when visiting Chroma Township. Can't wait to experience the colorful lifestyle its residents cherish. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Relief

Travelling northward approaching St. Martin de Midi to visit Tuscal Township, the home of Black and White University, where, approximately 52 years prior, A. matriculated as a student of canine behavior. B&W, its popular appellation, is a school without values. No in between. Gray has been expunged from all dictionaries. Students are graded on a scale that includes 0 or 100. They graduate Magna Cum Laude or NAA —Not At All. NAAs are allowed an additional semester to complete the required coursework with perfect scores but most waive this right and opt to enter graduate programs elsewhere. A. is a former NAA, and, subsequent to her receiving her NAA, opted for graduate studies at another institution. We were at B&W to present the university's chancellor with a portrait of A's favorite dog, Noir. (A portrait of Blanc, A's Havanese, has been bequeathed to the university.)

However, at Franc du Lacque, A. lost the keepsake, a pendant featuring a likeness of Noir's head, carved in the mid 20th Century by Noir's handler, a walking-shooting dog competitor temporarily incapacitated by a torn ligament in his ankle. This rendition depicts Noir, nose to the air, catching a whiff of the beef livers, A. stored on the window sill above the pantry sink. Quail never interested the dog all that much, thus his placement with A. (Excerpted from Travels with My Aunt)

Inscriptions

Sidewalk at the Intersection of Center and Main, Formlee Tattoo.

At Formlee Tattoo. Mostly low rise concrete block and poured concrete buildings,  walls inscribed with chalk art and spray-paint symbology. Sidewalks offer up a colorful array of pithy remarks. Myriad neon signs, static and flashing, complete the visual cataract. Some years prior, we visited the berg and lunched in a cafe where the menu was inscribed on the waiter's right arm and the wine list on his left. Bemoaning his impending unemployment, he'd verbally assailed the chef's decision to remove beef and pork specials in an attempt to court the growing population of chicken and fish aficionados. (Note that some of the wait help had accepted skin grafts and others had reverted to skin colored sleeves to remove listings and other decorative accoutrement. Ours, a refugee from the 60s, summarily refused to take part in anything that smacked of a coverup.)

Government grant money has proved woefully inadequate as residents of the berg attempt to disabuse walls and sidewalks of utterances and commentary. Our remembrances of the neighborhood will be as indelible as the art. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Diversity

Gardener Street, St. Ellens

St. Ellens offers no respite to the weary. Nothing is repeated here. Each symbol, each house, each office is developed and constructed without a template. Each construction drawing is as original as its concept. Gardens stand as unique ventures in planting. Store fronts appear as a conglomerate of taste and function but, again, each is singular. The village defines diversity.

To the spoken word, people listen as carefully as if awaiting the pitter patter of hooves on the roof top following the Winter Solstice. Reiterate has been obliterated from dictionaries.

Rather than confuse its residents, St. Ellens' passion for invention stimulates.
(Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

September 4

Near North Bay off the coast of Percy, high ground across the waters affords an unobstructed view of a section of the distant Doraldo mountain range aptly named The Split. In deference to ancestral wont, crowds will gather here seventeen days prior to the Autumnal Solstice to watch the sun rise along the vertical axis of The Split. Early tribes celebrated this event  by indulging those appetites that some 273 days hence issued a miraculous increase in the tribe's numbers. Understandably, the celebration of summer's arrival grew raucous with effusive congratulatory rants.

Feeling the need to stem uncontrolled growth, forefathers and mothers instituted blue laws. Attendees at contemporary Autumnal Solstice celebrations can only satisfy a hankering for gin martinis and fried okra. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Along The Shore

The ride to Rendition from Gramata was somewhat uneventful until we passed the Widows' Walk at Sacrimony Bay.  Unlike those in coastal New England, this widow's walk stretches along the shoreline. Benches accommodate those whose mates have become just that.

Tradition at Sacrimony Bay restricts vessels to the wharf until captains and owners can man or woman them with the required hands. Then and only then are they allowed to pass Gate House Point and ply the open waters of The Torrington. Given the dearth of talent ashore and the myriad treasures lying below the surface of The Torrington, kidnapping has become an acceptable means of fleshing out (so to speak) a crew.  (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Reader beware....

Ceremonial Placard, Gramata Highlands 791

Dizzy with wonder, we left Annular and headed to Gramata. Formerly a hive of diurnal information gathering and storage, this region's future remains uncertain as fewer residents are able to find and maintain gainful employment in its major (only) industry. Once bursting with activity, facilities now wither. The introduction of innovative technologies has left areas traditionally set aside for collecting and storage, bereft. Some, converted to monthly rentals with climate control, hold collections of other antiquities e.g. furniture, lamps, paintings and sculptures, carpets, toy trains, and Lily Pulitzer fashions. Until the flora re-establishes itself, those facilities remaining will continue to house motes, although temperatures and humidity should remain constant. We plan to return to Gramata in a few years to assess the change. (Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Visit Annular

North Quadrant, Annular S.O. Satellite imagery courtesy NSADP

Annular is a vast region. Its streets and highways, once crop circles, have been refurbished as thoroughbred race tracks, auto and motor bike speedways, and other amusements. Global climate change reduced annual rainfall to a trickle and energy tycoons purchased the distressed area at a discount. Reconfigured and updated, the circles are now career paths for Annular's residents. We attended the annual round table discussion conducted by Annular's Board of Overseers in which the history of the crop circles is revisited and deemed logical. 
(Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Footpaths near Gerald

Close to the center of Gerald, footpaths leading to a monastic retreat are lined with plantings, in-ground and potted. Residents believe that presaging accidents cautions travelers to be more aware. Thus they are less likely to engage in behaviors that could end in fatal collisions. To date, the coincidence of travelers has yet to occur; nonetheless, Gerald's population relentlessly campaigns against the use of smart phones, portable televisions, barbecue grills and huggable pets while transiting the footpaths within their voting districts. Gerald's representatives in the state legislature abide their constituents wishes.
(Excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

A Conference of.....

Untitled 2012, Ed Touchette, 9 x 12 walnut ink, acrylic/ 140lb. CP

West of Carol, we stopped for the night. A large crowd attracted our attention and we followed them to the village common where noted novelists, a journalist, a teleprompter personality,  a physicist, and sports fans had gathered to debate the beginnings of the universe prior to the invention of gods and/ or other religious bents. They'd agreed to senate rules; anyone leaving prior to the end of the discussion, and this included bathroom breaks before, during, and after filibusters and other oratorical devices, risked disqualification for reasons understood only by two of the novelists, the physicist, and one of the sports fans. Nonetheless, all of the panelists agreed to this and all other rules: the exclusion of references to foreign nationals; present and past presidents and their immediate advisors; and allusions to space time.
(excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Within the Temple

Bone, 2013, Ed Touchette, walnut ink, acrylic/ 140lb. CP

 

Arriving at Temple Ardor just as the sun set on the day after the solstice, we ignored signs announcing a missed opportunity and entered. Along the wooden arches, centuries of collected memories set to flight by our movements, leapt and whirled through light beams streaming down from the clerestories prompting us to question any further advances into the space. Curiosity reigned . We continued.
(excerpted from Travels With My Aunt)

Communications

Communicate, acrylic, graphite/ paper.

We studied the technological dichotomy in the smallish Hamlet of Wordsworth, where, flummoxed by a plethora of communication options, residents selected a single carrier for their internet, television, teleporting, and teleprompting services. However, bound by contract to an offshoot of Bell Telephone, they are forced to continue with operator assisted telephone interminably. (For those of you unfamiliar with this service, when a caller lifts the receiver, an operator asks for a number and connects the caller to the callee through a maze of wires and plugs on a switch board.) Wordsworth forwent dial up service in 1959 when interim Mayor, John  'Johnny No Fingers' Bend*, encouraged residents to stay with operator assisted calling.

* Circa 1956, John Bend, then a renowned burglar, tried to erase his fingerprints with an acid bath.

Relocated Bridges

Early Construction Using Timbers and Mud,

West of Blacksmith Rock we stopped to watch as a crowd gathered to rededicate a covered bridge imported by rail from Vermont. The original timbers and planking were being fastened with period nails. Several had fallen into the stream over which the bridge had been installed and we watched as gaggles of youths dove from the banks to retrieve the fasteners. A Labrador hurled himself into the water but ignored his handler’s shrill whistle commands, paddling joyfully around until the event concluded. Several residents noted the activity and began planning an annual event at which a nail hunt would be held. All required services would, of course, be covered by entry fees.